


Intramural

by Joking611



Series: Cari'ssi'mi Drabbles [3]
Category: Mass Effect, Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Canon Compliant, Cari'ssi'mi, College, F/F, Skyball
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-09-28 19:35:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20431325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joking611/pseuds/Joking611
Summary: Liara and Carvkae are better skyball players that one might suspect





	Intramural

**Author's Note:**

> A quick short set during Liara's college years. Placed before "Study" and somewhere after events referenced in "Fragments" Chapter 1
> 
> Also, after Asunder 10, 11, 18 and 19, Carvkae's been on my mind a bit lately.

Sathea made her way to the practice field, looking forward to being able to observe Serrice’s team in person for the first time.

There were more staff on the sidelines than players on the field, but Maeor stood separate from the others, so she approached her directly.

Coach Maeor looked up from her pad for a moment. “Welcome Sathea,” she greeted the recent addition to her defensive coaching staff before going back to making notes.

“Matriarch,” replied Sathwa cordially, relieved at not being dismissed or ignored.

She took up a position standing beside Maeor on the sideline, looking out across the field. “How goes the practice?”

“Fair,” admitted the matriarch candidly. “The team has significant room to improve if they are to be as successful this season as they were the last.” A sideways glance at Sathea. “That’s part of why you’re here.”

_‘True,’_ thought Sathea, still uncertain as to why the position had opened up, particularly after last year’s success.

The pair watched the scrimmage for a time, as both sides performed in an uninspired manner and the score remained tied at zero.

“Have you completed your review of the roster?” Asked Maeor, breaking the silence.

“Yes, Matriarch,” replied Sathea, grateful for the interruption, even as she hoped Maeor wouldn’t notice her hesitation. Particularly given her option about the starters. She would have preferred time to come up with options before having that discussion.

No such luck. “And your opinion?”

“The defense is not as, _seasoned_, as I would prefer,” answered Sathea as tactfully as she could.

“In what way do they not meet your requirements?” Asked Maeor mildly. “I remind you that this team won the championship last year, something that Serrice had been unable to do for half a century.”

Which was of course why Sathea had been hesitant to voice her objections so soon. She resigned herself to the rebuttal she knew she’d receive. “For example Matriarch, T’Soni is a concern.”

“Have you watched the vids from their practices so far?”

“All of them, Matriarch.” Of course she had. She was a professional.

“And _Liara_ is still your concern?” Pressed Maeor, now putting her slightly on the defensive that she might have missed something.

Sathea sighed as she assembled her reasoning. “I know she was very successful last year, yes, but that _could_ have been a fluke. Just look at her.” She pointed to Liara, whose hands were on her hips as she talked to her anchor. “She’s a freshman. She’s nearly fifteen centimeters shorter and ten kilos lighter than her anchor. She’s _tiny_ compared to the other players. She never seems to push herself. She’s as composed after a practice as when one begins. And…” She trailed off.

“And?”

_‘I don’t like her attitude.’_ That was never going to persuade anyone, she knew. “And she just doesn’t seem to have the killer instinct we need in a wing, let alone the midwing. The midwing needs to be everywhere, and Liara behaves like the field is just a convenient place for her to wait for her next class to begin. That’s not what we want with less than a week until our first game.”

Maeor chuckled. “I could see that.”

“You agree? Then why haven’t you moved her to second string, or even down to junior varsity?”

Coach Maeor laughed again. “I understand why you believe what you do, not that you’re correct.” Now a shrug. “The skills are there, but she plays best when she’s angry. That makes her a good match for Carvkae. Just wait.”

Sathea didn’t appreciate not being taken seriously. “Then I suppose I can only hope that someone angers her as needed,” she replied sourly, understanding now why her new position might not be everything she’d hoped.

Maeor shook her head, and then brought a whistle to her lips, stopping play for a moment. When the team looked her way, she curled two fingers at Carvkae. “Miris. Here.” She pointed at the patch of grass directly in front of her.

Carvkae jogged over to the sideline, yellow scrimmage vest flapping. “Coach?”

“I realize it’s only practice,” she began sarcastically, “But I expected more intensity from you on the field today, Miris. Set an example. Show Sathea why you’re here.”

The maiden hung her head. “Sorry, Coach.” She turned to run back onto the field at Maeor’s dismissal.

“And let’s see some enthusiasm out there or you’ll all be running laps for the rest of the day!” Shouted Maeor to the team over Carvkae’s retreating back.

A smattering of “Yes, Coach,” and “Yes, Matriarch,” came back in response.

Sathea watched Carvkae closely to see how she’d respond. The next play saw her demonstrating _slightly_ more energy, as well as during the play after that. _‘Maybe they both need to go down to JV,’ _thought Sathea bitterly, as unfortunate as it would be. Carvkae obviously wasn’t taking her coach’s input seriously. She just stood around, providing teasing encouragement to her wing between plays.

Then the third play unfolded entirely differently. The blue team exploded into motion, breaking out in several directions at once. Blue players raced for the distant edges of the field, forcing their defenders to follow. The forward strikers dashed towards the yellow oval, passing Carvkae on both sides while Liara conservatively inched forward just beyond the centerline. Sathea rolled her eyes.

Then the blue center made her move, kicking the ball high over the field, with the blue mid and rear wings immediately launching in pursuit.

Liara was already in motion. She threw her arms up and Sathea watched as Carvkae enveloped the smaller maiden in her biotics and flung her into the air with a force that hurt to watch. Liara hurtled skyward, dodging one wing and blocking the other as she zeroed in on the ball.

She grabbed it just before the top of her arc, allowing herself to begin to tumble as she reached the apex. She continued her roll as she began her descent, faster and faster until firing the ball so hard at the yellow forward that it simply bounced off her and into the blue oval. By the time she landed lightly on her feet, the board had already recorded the yellow score.

Sathea turned incredulously to Coach Maeor, whose look was smug even for a matriarch.

“You knew this would happen. You didn’t have any doubt at all.”

Maeor shrugged, giving the impression of someone who wished she would have placed a wager.

“How did you know?” Demanded Sathea.

“Although this is only Liara’s second year on the team, she and Carvkae have proven to be an exceptional anchor/wing pairing.” She shrugged again. “Why did you think I let a freshman play varsity who had so little experience in the sport?”

Sathea’s suspicions grew. “But you were _absolutely certain_. I thought you said that Liara played her best when she’s angry.” She waved at the players on the field, where they were positioning themselves for the throw-up. “What’s she got to be angry about?”

“Oh, Carvkae always seems able to annoy Liara.” She paused to take one last look over the field where Liara was stomping her way back to Carvkae. “It’s not deliberate. Her enthusiasm simply overwhelms propriety in ways that Liara is particularly sensitive to.” She nodded approvingly as she pressed her pad into Sathea’s hands. “One last series of plays please, then you can bring them in.”

Sathea just watched her go.


End file.
